


A Brief Someday Moment

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, POV First Person, Smut, Stream of Consciousness, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seduction begins in the mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Someday Moment

In a brief someday moment, I will kiss your lips for the first time. I will taste the physical essence of the soul I have known so well for these years. I’ll enjoy it, the lazy someday time when there will be no more secrets, mind to mind, soul to soul and the final delayed joining of bodies.

For now, there is desire so palpable it rises in waves. Your desire as well as mine, suffused with passion, but not the simple romantic passion of our someday. Instead, it’s the passion with which you live, bound to your quest, your heavy and dangerous desire to damn the critics and the falling sky, to expose the truth and let it burn us all, cauterizing the filthy wounds that fester with our comfortable blind lies. That passion is what drew me to you forever, beyond anything else. Your beauty will fade, your mind is brilliant but secondary next to you, that essential you that holds me in thrall.

That desire, your living soul, is fire and manna in my life, but there are other concerns. I can’t help but dream of that coming moment, when the seduction we began with eyes and banter stops as a shadow play. I can see it so clearly, as though it’s already happened and all we’re waiting for is the arrival of the moment.

I see it so well, but that’s not enough. I taste it, the salty taste of skin and perhaps a hint of cologne and lunch, I hear your voice, not the words but the tone and cadence, sweltering and teasing, raising all the hairs on the back of my neck in arousal. Such a slow, rhythmic seducing voice, but it’s lying. My fingertips will graze your neck oh- so-lightly and I will know that your blood is running as feverishly as mine, as my fingertips and lips and nose become aware of the peculiar texture of skin that is ours now and forever.

The waiting for our someday moment is slowly growing unbearable, as though I had an unscratchable itch or a hopeless ache of need. I think my stare is burning your neck right now; now, before what’s coming happens, you look up guilelessly and smile quickly at me.

I try to think of why I want it to happen so much. I try to dissuade myself, chanting a litany of your sins like rosary beads. I’ve been left behind and let down, and how long have you maintained this distance? But my mind drifts back to the sensation of your hands on my skin, making me shiver in anticipation.

Unconventional you, you won’t try any of the obvious ways to send me swooning. No, you kneel, no, you recline against the bed or couch or whatever it is, and now I loom over you uncomfortably, anxiously anticipating your next move.

Nothing. You’ll smile up at me, murmuring a few sweet nothings that don’t register on my brain. Please now, I can’t stop with this short beginning seduction. You, you’ll raise up on one elbow and trace every curve of my body with your wicked eyes. No words are exchanged; they aren’t needed.

I’ll play it your way. Slowly, each item of clothing comes off, but you’re not looking at the exposed skin. It’s all in the eyes with us, as ever. I step out of my underthings at last, and I ask the same privilege you’ve received, this complete vulnerability to the other. You accede.

I don’t survey you either as you strip; we’ll play it your way, a contest of wills, held in audible silence and moving toward an ecstatic denouement.

Finally (thank the Lord in heaven, hallelujah!) we’re both naked. After all these years, we’ll reach our someday moment. You scoot back to make room for me as I finally tangle in your arms and discover that you are so close to the breaking point. I laugh, falling into your arms at last, that slow and impossible friction between us giving off sparks that have, at last, started a fire.

I have to stand up, get out of this office immediately. It’s now, and my clothes weigh too damn much when you’re cheerfully attacking my breast and my sanity with your mouth in our inevitable future. My slip is tangled around my legs, taunting my overstimulated nerves, and I ache, tingle, whatever– my daydreams are too real. I have to escape them.

I rise from my desk as my dream-hands search for wings, trying to coax your divine secret from your shoulder blades, because no mortal man can be so many places at once. Your mouth is busy survey the hollow of my throat, lapping at it like a kitten. One of your hands is is rappelling down from the outward swell of my breast to the gentle rise of my hip, while the other strokes my inner thigh, driving me absolutely mad. You’ve actually left me writhing in delight, like one of those bosom- heaving women in a romance novel, while I currently blush in the throes of guilty anticipation. Even my skin is too heavy and swollen to be real.

You have to notice my distraction, this potentially humiliating situation. I can feel and almost smell the heady mix of desire and pain swirling around me. But you don’t look up, thank God, so I beat a path to the restroom, the lack of your presence only adding fuel to the fire.

Blessmefatherforihavesinned– I’ve sinned terribly, I realize, splashing my face with cold water. Every time I’ve run my tongue over my lips, dreaming of those kisses, those lips– I have sinned. Each feather-soft touch down my throat, up my arm– I have transgressed. When my hand gently esteems the curve of my breast and the swell of my thighs with no other thought than of reaching a taste of that inevitable someday moment, I have dug myself a pit. And when my restraint and control have slipped with my hand between my thighs, I have committed wrong, such wretched sins.

I’ve been terribly selfish. Your hands, your mouth, your cock have all been with me as I’ve found release. My very own phantom of delight, because of the real you, my own dark angel, whom I can trust even in my most uninhibited dreams–

You, my protector.

You, my truest friend.

You, my otherself.

You, my compliment, the missing part. You let me discover what I’ve really wanted, the life I craved, the dangerous freedom that I had always been ashamed to want.

My sin is not the desire, not that at all. It’s covetousness. I’ve kept all of this passion locked away, precious gems that belong to both of us hoarded away for me. It must be shared.

My face stares back at me from the looking-glass. I look ready to burst into flames. My pupils are dilated, my cheeks damp and rosy, and my hair slightly dishevelled. The madness of a seduced woman, her heartbeat deliberate and elevated, her breathing ragged. My madness.

Tempus fugit. The madness has always been there, the longing, the ache, and now I’m bursting with it. This is the part where you must make love to me, you must send me tumbling over the last barriers of madness to cure it, no more games, no more of this anticipation. Someday isn’t enough any more.

Back. I stumble back to where you’re waiting, in dreams waiting for me to give the last yes, for the last niggling distinction between today and lover to be washed away. And like Molly Bloom, my heart racing and my entire body exposed and vulnerable to your naked form, yes, I’ll tell you, yes and my pulse will be going like mad and yes, I’ll say, yes I will and finally it’ll be real, your body in mine, anticipation crumbling into the sensation of feverish and portentous reality, yes I love you I want you, yes–

There can’t be any more waiting.

I’ve waited almost too long, and my whole self, body and soul, burns in that peculiar agony of desire. It must be now.

“Scully, are you all–”

A brief someday moment, and I kiss your lips for the first time, savoring their texture, stunned by the heat and salty stale taste of your mouth. Stunned that it’s real. Stunned that it’s now.

I break the kiss finally, needing to see your eyes, to judge your reaction. I pull back and sate up at you, and discover how your eyes sparkle with the same feverish desire I know gleams in mine.

“Yes,” I whisper, my fingertips gently discovering your pulse, the undeniable race of blood. “Oh, yes, yes.”

This is madness.

This is heaven.

This is someday.

And I surrender gladly.


End file.
